


Tourist on the Menu

by muttthecowcat22



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, MerMay, Merman Richard, RK900 is Richard, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-03-18 01:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18975952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muttthecowcat22/pseuds/muttthecowcat22
Summary: Gavin isn’t attuned to beautiful things, having ignored them for most of his adult life.  His cat has curled into a loaf over his stomach while his eyes nearly slip closed despite the storm brewing on the horizon. He can’t hear the music.  He can’t even see Richard, until the creature’s scales flash in anger.-For Mermay





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is a spur of the moment fic for mermay. I'll be posting several short chapters.  
> Inspiration for Gavin being a lobsterman is from prismaticcannon's art on twitter! (ao3 isn't letting me link right now)
> 
> Rating may go up!

_Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?  
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach._  
_I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each._  
  
_I do not think that they will sing to me._

 _-_ from The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot-

 

So Richard is one of those mermaids that eats people.

And Gavin is a dumb guy going through his midlife crisis.  He decides that he’s sick of being a sissy cop in the city and that he’s going to trade in his cop job for the manliest manly trade of: _Lobsterman_. It has a true ring to it, he thinks.  So he sells his apartment, buys a house off the coast of Maine, packs up his few belongings and his cat, and moves off to the great unknown.

The lush green trees framing the coast are beautiful, the ocean and pebbled shore that stretch out from Gavin’s cabin more so.  The only problem is that Gavin has no idea how to be a proper _Lobsterman_.

So that’s how he finds himself in a rowboat on a cloudy day when the waves are high, with his cat (who was a bad idea to bring along anyway, she hasn’t stopped yowling since they pushed off), trying to set up lobster pots off a secluded line of shore without another soul in sight.

Unfortunately, it’s spring.  Which would be great and all, except it comes after winter.  Winter, when few if any humans approach the sea and fish are scarce near the surface.  Leaving the few solo mermaids who forgo mating season and hibernation during the winter with a severe scarcity of food and a gnawing hunger come spring.

So when a particularly large wave rocks Gavin’s boat and tips him overboard, the shockwaves rip out around him and carry straight to Richard’s lateral lines.  Richard takes off (cue jaws music), his mouth watering with the smell of the first human he’s encountered since the fall.  His scales flash as he glides just beneath the surface of the water.

Meanwhile, Gavin’s cursing out his cat, who’s still yowling from the boat.  She rubs up against his fingers as Gavin tries to find enough purchase to swing his leg over the edge.  After several failed attempts, he finally manages it, flopping into the bottom of the boat, exhausted.  Not noticing the scales that flashed beneath the waves just a few seconds after his success.

Richard fumes. He’s more famished than he thought if he can’t even catch up with the pathetic excuse for a human in the boat above him. But his hunger outweighs his anger, clawing up his throat, and he decides to do something he rarely ever does: entice the human into the water with his voice.

He slowly rises from the water, his silvery-blue gills sealing off to let him take in some air, and sings.  Beautiful music fills the air around the boat, drowning out the sound of the wind and the shifting of the waves, enticing the human into the water . . .

. . . Or it would, except Gavin isn’t attuned to beautiful things, having ignored them for most of his adult life.  His cat has curled into a loaf over his stomach while his eyes nearly slip closed despite the storm brewing on the horizon. He can’t hear the music.  He can’t even see Richard, until the creature’s scales flash in anger. 

Richard grips the edge of the boat with his webbed fingers, pulling himself up until he can stare down the ignorant human.  The human jolts when the boat shifts and opens his eyes.  They widen for a moment, an odd shade of green peculiar to humans, then settle into a dull look again. 

“Shit!  Did you fall out too?”  The human actually has the gall to speak to Richard.  He reaches toward Richard with an oily, dirty hand. “Hey, I’ll let you climb in, but I didn’t even see your boat. Where is it?”

And that’s when Richard hisses at the human, baring his full set of teeth.

“Oh Phck!” Gavin scrambles away from the . . . the thing hanging off the side of his boat.  He only takes his eyes off the teeth when he notices the scales and seaweed clinging to the things arms and hands.  It has to be a nightmare. He fell asleep in the bottom of the boat and hasn’t woken up yet.  That’s all. 

The thing starts rocking the boat with its arms, trying to force Gavin overboard again.  Gavin holds on for dear life. The cat, seemingly unbothered, brushes up against the thing’s fingers as she’d done to Gavin’s earlier, then settles back down near the stern.  Gavin doesn’t have time to think. He grabs the nearest object and lashes out towards the thing.

Richard recoils in shock when the human beats a lobster pot over his hands.  It’s not until he’s slipped back into the water that he notices the large gash on his right hand.  It’s deep, all the way to the bone, and bleeding.  He’ll need to return to his cave to treat it. 

The motor on the boat rumbles overhead as the human powers away.  No matter, the human will return. They all do.

At his cave, Richard covers his hand as best he can with salve and seaweed.  He needs to eat for it to heal, but humans and fish, for that matter, remain scarce in his waters.  It’s times like these that he almost regrets not staying with the colony. Almost.

He wouldn’t be going hungry, and he’d be protected from any other predators that might pick up the faint smell of blood still lingering around his hand.

His hunger grows, his scales losing their shine, and he waits every day for the ignorant human to return.  But he never does. 

He never does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving kudos and comments <3
> 
> Also, I'm posting this in shorter bits on my twitter, so check that out if you'd like to see half chapters earlier! (but we're caught up for right now)


	2. Chapter 2

Richard takes matters into his own hands—or well, his one hand.

The wound on his right hand still hasn’t healed, even a month later.  It’s swollen and tender beneath his seaweed wrappings.

He’s sick of seaweed.  His cave is stuffed full of the stuff, which he’s spent the month harvesting. He’s been staving off the hunger by eating it for two weeks, not even a single edible fish crossing his path.  But he can’t live off of seaweed for much longer.  His swimming speed is half of what it was in the fall.  His scales are falling off, a new one every day, leaving raw patches scattered over his tail.

The human never returns.

But Richard knows the direction that his boat came from that day. He knows the stops along the shoreline that are inhabited by humans.  He can find the human if he tries.

And he’s growing desperate. So he sets out towards the shore.  It’ll be closer to land than he’s ventured in years, the warmer shallow waters harsh on his lungs and gills.

He spares a thought for his brother as he swims inland.  Wonders how he’s faring this season, if he’s still alive . . . if he’s found a clan of his own.

 

Gavin can barely look at the water outside his cabin anymore.  He hasn’t touched his rowboat since the day he encountered the thing.

It haunts him.  Those icy blue eyes burned into his memory.  He sees them some nights, can’t shake them from his thoughts.  They keep him awake with fear, only comforted by the weight of his cat at the edge of his pillow.

Instead of venturing out by himself again, he applies to work as a hand on a larger boat.  Chris, the guy who owns the boat, and the rest of the crew are nice enough.  The work is hard, physically taxing.  Some days Gavin leaves home before sunrise and doesn’t return until night.  But he enjoys it.

The work takes his mind off of the creature as well as his old life in Detroit. 

No one he knew there has tried to contact him since he moved.  He’s more convinced than ever that he made the right decision.  There was nothing left there for him.  His family gone.  The only person he was ever able to call a friend withdrawn, changed, despondent.  Gavin stopped trying to help him . . .

But he can help himself and his cat now.

One day about a month after he starts working with the crew, he watches the sun rise as he feeds the cat before he heads out.  It’s brighter when he wakes up every morning, the days lengthening into summer. 

He steps out onto his back porch for a minute. A crisp breeze sweeps towards him from the calm waves.  He props his back against the cabin wall and simply lets himself enjoy the scene for the first time as he drinks his coffee, his cat slipping out the cracked door to purr against his legs.  He doesn’t even feel like he needs to smoke.

It’s almost beautiful.

Until he sees it.

The thing.

It’s in the water, the waves lapping gently around it’s pale torso and shoulders.  And it’s staring directly at Gavin.

It’s lips are moving, like it’s saying something, but Gavin can’t hear it over the breeze.

He sits down his coffee, and opens a new pack, drawing out a cigarette to calm his nerves.  He’s sick of being scared of this thing.

And he’s going to do something about it before he leaves.

 

Richard almost stops himself when he sees the human.  He looks almost . . . not-irritating, Richard will admit that much, no longer an eyesore to the life around him.  He and the overgrown cabin nearly blend into the growth on the shoreline. 

But the hunger pulls at Richard’s stomach, doubling him over in pain.  So he hauls himself halfway onto the pebbled shore when it releases him, his hand throbbing.  He can sense the human spot him, watches his features morph into disgust.

Richard attempts to sing again.  A different song this time, one that his brother favored, a much older one, a more beautiful melody, lighter, about more beautiful and light things.

The human doesn’t hear it.  Again.

Richard hasn’t felt so humiliated in a long time.

But the human does walk down from his cabin, towards the water, towards Richard.  His feet stop at the large smooth stones before the pebbles that lead to the water.

“Go Away.” The human picks up one of the stones, towering above Richard from his vantage point, as if that somehow makes him less pathetic. 

Richard merely bares his teeth. 

“Look, Flipper,” the human continues, “you can’t even reach me from there.  Just go away.  I’m tired of dealing with your ass—or well tail. . .fin?  Anyway, phck off!” 

Richard stares him down.  The human will come.  None of them can resist the pull.  They all cave eventually.

Except for this human apparently.  He throws the stone.

It hits Richard’s shoulder, the side with his bad hand.

Richard has never felt pain like this before.  It’s crippling.  He feels his own cry before he hears it, his entire arm throbbing, deep sharp.  He falls into the water, the pebbles rolling beneath him, carrying him back out to deeper levels.

By the time he looks up, the human is gone.

But Richard has nothing left, no food, no energy.  He can’t give up so easily.

 

Gavin pats himself on the back, sings to the cat on the way out the door. 

It looks like he’s solved his creature problem.  He spares a thought to the wounded sound the thing made when he chucked the rock at it.  But it tried to kill him, didn’t it?  So he can’t really feel all that bad.

He’s actually looking forward to work.  And that’s a change, isn’t it? 

Tina, the marine patrol, should be stopping by at noon, and despite having to enforce all the regulations on lobster fishing, she’s pretty cool.  Part of her job entails working with the state aquarium to research lobsters as well as the other marine life off the coast of Maine.

Gavin assumes the patrol checks might not be so bad anyway since the state is more worried about the dangerously low fish population.  It’s apparently the lowest it’s ever been due to warmer waters and overfishing. 

Tina’s also probably the closest Gavin’s got to a new best friend.  He can talk to her about cop stuff and major life changes (she used to be a vet before she decided she liked the sea and the law) and shit. 

And so here they are.

And Gavin’s looking forward to his job again.

And his life . . . well, it’s not good. He’s still alone, other than for his cat, but it’s better.  It’s better.

Except the thing is still there when he gets home.  He was sure it was gone that morning.

He ignores it.  Throws a stick at it the next morning, since that seems to be the only thing that scares it, and watches it slink away.

But it’s always there in the mornings, waiting on him like an angry neighbor.  Gavin chunks sticks and stones at it for two or three days.  Listens to it hiss at him.  Before he decides it’s better to ignore it.  And Gavin’s so irritated with the thing that he tells it so.

 

“Hey Flipper, that’s it! Asshole. You can sit here and rot for all I care.  I’m not coming out here any more to see your phck’n face.” 

Richard doesn’t know what else to do.  The human is so dense.  He won’t venture anywhere near the water.  He’s not even going to walk down to the beach after today.

Richard grasps at the last straw he has.  He musters his energy, pushes it into his voice. And speaks.

“Come closer and speak to me once, and I will leave.”  Richard can feel the pull in his words, even as they flow over his lips.

But the human ignores even that.  “No,” he says and leaves for the last time.

Richard stares at the sky and the vibrant colors around him, the waves lapping at his scales, and thinks how cruel it all is. 

He can’t stay there any more.  He has to leave, but he also has to eat.

The only place that he's sure he can find fish is near the commercial deep sea fishing trawlers.  They attract fish to the nets in swarms with special bait.  But the area is out of Richard’s territory.  He barely has enough energy to swim there one way.

He goes anyway.  If he can eat a few fish, he’ll be able to make it home.

He finds the boats easily.  He’s a little winded but relatively better than he thought he would be.  The swarm of fish is smaller than he thought it would be as well.

He thinks it doesn’t matter.  He thinks that his right arm being nearly unusable doesn’t matter.  That his low energy levels don’t matter.

It all matters.

He forces himself too close to the net.  His scales catch into it and fins tangle.  He manages to free himself, but not without scaring all the fish away.  Not without throwing himself too close to the surface of the water, too close to the motor of the boat.

The rudder cuts deep into his tail.  Sends him spinning away. 

He doesn’t feel it at first.  He just looks down and sees the jagged hole.  The blood.  His scales gone, muscle exposed.

Then he feels it.  The water which had always been a balm to him burns.

He doesn’t know where to go.  He can’t take care of this wound himself, the blood flowing out of it in ribbons behind him.  If there's any other predators left in the area, they'll find him easily.

He swims back to the human’s cabin, a trail of blood marking his path. He doesn’t know why. It’s just the first thing on his mind.

It takes the last of his energy to make it there, to pull himself up onto the pebbles, onto the stones, where he can’t wash away.

The blood pools under him, seeps through the pebbles.  It hurts to breathe, hurts more to cough. 

He knows he’s going to die.  He’s always known it would be like this.  His mother told him as much when he left the colony.

That he would die injured, alone, and washed up on the shore with no one around to help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always welcome <3


	3. Chapter 3

Gavin’s day has gone pretty well, all things considered. He’s tired though, his legs dragging as he pulls himself through the cabin’s front door.  They’d had a long day at work, and afterwards Tina had taken Gavin to see the blue lobster at the aquarium.

And now it’s pitch dark outside, the shifting ocean a distant lull, and the cat’s meows are ripping over everything.  She’s standing by the back door, looking at Gavin expectantly when he steps inside, the moonlit ocean glowing through the windows behind her. 

Gavin ignores her at first, goes straight to the fridge to pull out the thin soup he’s been heating up for dinner for the past week.

But the cat just won’t let up.  Her meows grow even louder if possible.  She paces back and forth between Gavin’s legs and the back door.

Gavin gives up, drops his bowl of soup lightly on the counter with a dull thud, and goes to let the cat out the back door.  She immediately slinks towards the beach.

There’s a full moon out, bright on the pebbles leading to the water, streaking through the dark waves.  And there’s a dark mass on top of the pebbles, farther up the beach than anything can wash, almost touching the steps up to the cabin, a thin dark trail behind it stretching to the water.

And the cat’s walking straight towards it.

“Hey!  Cat!  Bad cat!”  Gavin clicks his tongue, tries everything he can think of to get the cat to stop.  Of course, she doesn’t listen.

He grabs his old crabbing flashlight off the deck and runs after the cat.  The bright light cuts through the dark, brings out the harsh outlines of the wooden deck and steps . . . and reflects off of scales.  Lots of scales.  They’re light grey, maybe an irridescent blue tinge to them, and something glowing when the light doesn’t shine directly on them.

The scales fade into pale skin, smooth except for a light dusting of sun spots leading up to the dark slightly curly hair on the thing’s head.  Its ribs stick out prominently in the moonlight, sunken, hungry.

Of course it’s the thing.  Probably trying to kill Gavin again.

Gavin approaches it slowly, wary of some kind of trap.  It’s not moving, other than the rapid rise and fall of it’s chest.  Gavin can hear it’s breaths, harsh and low, over the waves. 

“Hey, asshole, whatcha doin’?” he says, not too loud, still cautious.  “Flipper?”

The thing doesn’t answer.  Gavin grabs a piece of driftwood propped against the steps and pokes at it.  It still doesn’t move.

Gavin lifts one of its arms out of the way with the stick, and that’s when he sees the blood.  A low rumbling sounds come from the thing’s throat, but it doesn’t move.  The cat meows from her perch on top of the railing by the steps.

There’s a deep red gash in the scales, spanning  down the side of the thing’s tail.  Some of the blood around it has dried, but Gavin watches it still seeping, bright red, into the stones beneath it, pooling and spilling down the incline towards the sea.

It could still be a trap, Gavin thinks, but he steps around to take a look at the thing’s face.  He shines the light directly at it, see if it startles.  It doesn’t.  Its eyes are half-open, unfocused.  Gavin’s never noticed before that they’re a light grey-blue, same as its scales.

He would think it was dead except for its breathing. 

He reaches out and shakes the thing’s shoulder.  “Flipper?  Wake up.”  It’s skin is cold, and it still doesn’t move.

The tide has come in, lapping at the fins on its tail and the tips of its fingers.  Another foot or so and the water could carry it back out. If it doesn’t bleed out first.

Its not dead, but it’s dying.  And Gavin . . . well, it tried to kill him, but he can’t stomach the idea of leaving him out behind his house to die.  He doesn’t know how to help him though.  He’d take it to the hospital, but the thing’s not exactly human.

Gavin pulls out his phone and combs through his contacts, trying to find someone to call.  He tries not to think too much about it before he hits Tina’s name.

“Hey, Gav, what’s up?  Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Uh . . . yeah.  So, you used to be a vet, right?”

“Yeah, something wrong with your cat?”

Gavin glaces to where to cat is still perched on the railing, watching over him and the thing.

“Not exactly.  There’s a . . uh . . big fish that’s washed up behind my cabin . . . like a dolphin.” Gavin sweats.  Dolphins live in Maine, right?  He knows he’s seen some at work.  “It’s still alive, but it’s cut pretty bad and there’s blood everywhere.  Is there some kind of animal hospital around here I could take it to?”

“What?!  Holy shit.  Look, there’s no animal emergency place here but I’m turning around right now.  I know a few more people we can call if we need to.  Especially, Tiffs.  She’ll come if we need her.  Just hold on.”

Tiffany, Tina’s girlfriend and still a “real” vet, as Tina calls her.  That would be great and all, except the thing isn’t actually a dolphin, it’s a Thing.  And what will Tina think?  Maybe Gavin’s just imagining all of this and she’ll see nothing when she arrives.

“You sure about that?” he asks.

“Duh, I’ll be there soon.”  And she ends the call.

Okay, so Tina’s coming.  At least Gavin will have some help.

Gavin looks back down at the thing.  It’s still breathing really fast.  Gavin’s no nurse, but he did manage to learn a few things about emergency situations while he was a cop.  So he knows that (A) he needs to do something to at least slow the bleeding and (B) the rising tide is about to flood the cut again, and he doesn’t need to let that happen.

Gavin needs to move the thing, at least onto the steps.  He tries to think if he has anything in the house he could roll it on to move it, but he comes up blank.  Picking it up would be the easiest, but it would put Gavin in a vulnerable position if the thing managed to wake up.

The cat meows again.  The water’s climbed another inch, touching the bottom of the cut and lifting the thing’s tail.  If he doesn’t move quickly, the waves are going to carry it back out again.

So he braces himself, and shifts his arms underneath it, one around its back and shoulders and the other under its tail.  Another low rumbling sound comes from its chest when Gavin stands, but it doesn’t move, all dead weight.

It’s heavy.  More so than a person of the same size would be.  Gavin’s put on some extra muscle since starting his new job, so he manages to walk up the stairs, but it’s an effort.  The thing’s scales are smooth, almost soft.  Gavin’s never felt anything like them before.  And they’re cold, along with the skin.  Everything is cold, except the warm blood trickling from the cut.

Gavin decides to go on and carry the thing to his bathtub now that he’s gone to the trouble of picking it up.  That way, it can still have some water around it.  He thinks it needs some water at least, since it lives in the water?

He makes it into the cabin, and attempts to deposit it in the tub as gently as possible.  He still jostles the tail a bit when he finally lets go, eliciting another weak groan.  Gavin feels the sound rumble under his fingers as he presses a clean towel to the wound.  He doesn’t think a tourniquet would work with how high up the cut is. 

He just keeps the pressure there and listens to the thing’s loud breathing.  Time seems to go on forever until he hears Tina’s car pulling up outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/cowcatandsilver) \- [Pillowfort](https://pillowfort.social/muttthecowcat)


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